Splash.
Splash.
Splash.
The rhythmic sound of water being disturbed echoed softly through the vast, subterranean chamber encased within the intricate Eight Trigrams Seal. Pale golden light shimmered across the surface of the endless water, casting surreal reflections along the towering metal bars that stood like the gates of an ancient prison. Each step Menma took sent ripples outward, fracturing the stillness—but inside, his heart was steadily calming, like the water settling back into silence.
This place, though hidden within his own body, had begun to feel like an entirely separate realm. And in this realm, resting with majestic stillness behind those massive bars, was a creature more awe-inspiring than any beast Menma had seen in documentaries or the massive zoos he'd visited in another life. The Nine-Tailed Fox. Kurama.
---
Kurama watched him quietly, massive golden eyes tracking every movement the boy made. But not just his steps—his chakra, his emotions, his thoughts.
He had seen everything.
The battle. The laughter. The running. The dancing. The fire.
The pain. The longing. The forgiveness.
Kurama had observed it all with detached curiosity. He watched Menma burn with the joy of movement, with the unrestrained freedom that had once belonged to Kurama himself, when he roamed the earth without bars or hatred. He had felt the boy's kindness when he should have radiated fear. He had felt warmth where he expected suspicion.
It was maddening.
Was this boy an idiot? A fool? A saint?
Just a sincere tear… a single act of empathy… and Menma had forgiven what would shatter any other soul.
Kurama snorted to himself—if he still had one.
But deep inside, even the ancient beast had to admit: this boy was… interesting.
Too interesting.
In fact, too suspiciously interesting.
Kurama had begun to suspect there was another within Menma.
A deeper force. A darker scar.
A second soul, curled in silence beneath the layers of warmth and defiance. One just as broken as he was. And the worst part? It felt like destiny. Or punishment. He wasn't sure which was worse.
Why?
Why would fate choose to house broken monsters together in one fragile body? Was this boy destined to be their end? A walking apocalypse of sadness and pain? A harbinger of truth and ruin?
Too many questions. Too few answers.
And so, Kurama waited in silence.
Until the boy came before him, standing tall once again—this time without fear, but not without reverence.
---
"Hello, Mr. Fox."
The voice was soft, almost polite, but carried its own gravity.
"Sorry if I disturbed your rest. I hope you don't find my presence bothersome..."
Kurama observed him again—his calm eyes, his respectful but cheeky smile. The kid was nothing if not emotionally layered.
"Mr. Fox, have you thought about my invitation for friendship? Would I be honored to share such a title?"
That grin. That annoying gleam in his eye.
Kurama narrowed his gaze. Just like Kushina. All fire and flicker. Couldn't stay serious for more than two seconds. If only they learned to shut up once in a while, they might've been far more tolerable.
So he ignored him. Completely. Silence was king.
Kurama shifted his body slightly, exhaling a breath like a cold wind brushing through steel. It ruffled Menma's hair and clothes—not harshly, but enough to carry meaning. The air shifted like a wife turning her back in bed, cold and dissatisfied.
Menma, understanding the signal, changed the subject—for now.
---
"Mr. Fox, can I ask you a few questions?"
Kurama cracked one heavy eye open, nodding once with imperial laziness.
"Um... Mr. Fox... are you a tod or a vixen?"
A pause.
"I—I mean… a male or a female fox? I don't know how to tell..."
And he leaned slightly to the side—as if he was checking.
For something… visible.
Silence.
Then:
"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?!"
Kurama practically exploded.
The fury of a thousand suns blazed to life inside him.
"How dare you—ME, the great Nine-Tails—be mistaken for some dainty vixen?! You question MY MALE PRIDE?! My glorious MANLINESS?"
The water around him trembled from his chakra.
His tails slapped against the seal like waves crashing against cliffs.
"What were you hoping to see with that lean, you wicked little creature?!"
Menma blinked innocently. "...So that's a yes, then?"
Kurama roared.
---
And then it happened.
The great beast reared up and began his monologue.
A one-fox performance. A declaration of masculinity and eternal dominance.
A poem recited with all the grandeur of a Shakespearian warlord:
> Beyond this place of wrath and tears,
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years,
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid...
Menma clapped politely.
"Beautiful!" he grinned. "You even have taste in poetry! That's it. You're definitely a boy fox!"
Kurama fell back onto his paws, eyes twitching.
"You're as scattered as your mother..." he mumbled.
---
The words caught Menma.
"Mr. Fox… you knew my mother?"
Kurama, still simmering, didn't notice the shift in tone.
"Yeah. Red hair like yours. Flaming temper. Jumpy. Emotional. But… good. Forgiving. Her heart was too big for this world. She'd even forgive hell if it cried hard enough."
Menma's throat tightened. His chest rose and fell with quiet urgency.
"Did you know her life? How she lived? What she liked? What she loved?"
Kurama finally looked at him again—and saw what he'd missed.
The longing in Menma's face. The grief. The ache. The hunger to know something, anything, about the woman who gave birth to him and vanished.
Kurama exhaled slowly.
"Yes. I saw her whole life. I was with her since she was just a little girl—maybe ten years old. She was… powerful. But her story was carved in pain."
He spoke quietly now.
"Mocked for her hair. Feared for her chakra. Bullied endlessly. She was lonely... so lonely. Even when they said they were protecting her, they only caged her. They saw her as a tool. A ticking bomb."
Kurama closed his eyes.
"I saw her fight for joy. For love. And when she finally found some… it was torn from her hands like dust in the wind."
A long pause.
"And I killed her."
Menma didn't speak.
"I killed them both," Kurama said flatly. "Your mother and father. I struck the final blow. I ended their lives."
"So what now, brat? Still want to be my friend? Still want to call me Mr. Fox with your righteous voice and bright eyes?"
He rose to his full height.
"Say something! Condemn me! Hate me! Why don't you?!"
---
But Menma didn't scream.
He didn't rage.
He turned quietly.
Walked to the edge of the seal space.
And stopped.
Then, in a soft voice:
"Thank you for telling me. And thank you for loving her. Even now, I can feel how you miss her when you speak."
Kurama blinked.
"You're not a monster, Mr. Fox. You're someone who was used. Just like her. Just like me."
He didn't turn back. He simply smiled at the water.
"We're all broken, I guess. But that doesn't mean we have to stay that way. I'll come back tomorrow. Maybe you'll tell me her favorite food next time. Adiós."
And like that, the boy disappeared.
.....
Kurama sat in stunned silence.
His tails slowly curled around his form.
His breath was low, even.
And his heart?
…It ached.
He missed her.
And now…
He might miss him too.
---